


Second Star to the Right

by burn_it_slow



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Blue POV, Multi, TRC exchange 2017, gansey is barely in this tbh, mild angst about college searching and standardized tests and that kind of stuff, sarchengsey but very heavy on the sarcheng
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 11:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13212567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burn_it_slow/pseuds/burn_it_slow
Summary: Blue has an existential crisis; Henry does that thing where he wants her to face her fears. There's not really a plot, per se. A TRC Exchange 2017 gift for @transpersephonepoldma.





	Second Star to the Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [femmethem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmethem/gifts).



 

 

> **_You can use the Federal School Code Search to search for colleges you’re interested in including on your FAFSA. You can also find detailed college information, like tuition and fee amounts and graduation rates, and compare that information for up to 10 colleges at a time. If you have more than 10 colleges to compare, you must remove some schools from the Selected Schools table in order to add and compare the additional schools._ **
> 
> **_Use the search fields below to begin your search._**
> 
>  

Of all the reasons to be caught crying in a public place, filling out financial aid forms was not at all an acceptable one. Blue would not allow it.

For one thing, the new guidance counselor was less than ten feet away and could probably smell teenage emotional crises like a drop of blood in the water. For another thing, she had plenty of other shit going on in her life that she could have a perfectly dramatic meltdown about later, in the privacy of her own bedroom.

The list of possible schools in Virginia alone brought up a hundred and forty-seven results. Mary Baldwin College. Marymount University. Medtech College of Falls Church. The names were all starting to sound like nonsense. Blue tapped a chipped-turquoise fingernail against the edge of the ugly beige keyboard. Her school library wasn’t exactly equipped with cutting edge technology.

She wasn’t going to get very far if she couldn’t even come up with a single potential college to pretend she was serious about. If only Adam were here. Adam was only really considering Ivy Leagues, but Blue would bet good money on his practical knowledge of every other possibility in the area and a general estimate of tuition and fees.

She cast her gaze slyly to the right and saw Ashley Rose Barker confidently seeking out the code for Mount Holyoke and Smith College. Did Ashley Rose Barker whose locker brimmed with SparkNotes really think she had the grades for-

“Are we stuck, Miss Sargent? I know this process can be confusing.”

Blue just barely stopped herself from going full-on glare as she turned to see Ms. Pepperell, her new nosy-ass guidance counselor, peering down through leopard-print plastic frames at the FAFSA website.

“You’re on the right track, here, honey. Are you not finding the schools you want? These lists can be tricky sometimes. Which ones have you applied to?”

“Um. Harvard, obviously. That’s my safety. Also the Sorbonne, and Hong Kong University. I’ll need to look over their dining hall options to really narrow that down.”

“Mm-hmm. Okay. Why don’t we have a quick sidebar over in my office? Come on.”

“I really don’t-”

“Bring your things.”

Blue groaned under her breath and zipped up her backpack. It was hardly the first time she’d been perp-walked to a guidance counselor’s office in front of her classmates, but it never got any less mortifying. Ashley Rose spared her a pitying gaze before turning back to her purposeful mouse clicking.

Ashley Rose Barker was not going to be able to wear those signature platform flip-flops all year at Mount Holyoke.

“Blue, have a seat,” Ms. Pepperell gestured to one of the armchairs in front of her desk, and Blue could see the struggle in her expression, an idealistic drive of helpfulness fighting the bone-weary tiredness of dealing with high school bullshit all day all week all year. It was a familiar expression she particularly resented when she saw it on her mother.

“Blue is such a … memorable name. So unique. It really suits you,” Ms. Pepperell eased herself into the creaky office chair that she’d probably had handed down from that oily old white guy guidance counselor who’d retired years ago. He’d given Orla the creeps. Not _psychic_ creeps, but more like the usual, white guy creeps.

A moment of awkward silence crept through the tiny office, making the already cluttered space seem more crowded. The only sound was that of a fly occasionally batting against the windowpane, lazy but still looking for an exit.

Blue knew Ms. Pepperell was doing that thing where she waited and invited Blue to speak when she was comfortable and ready.

Blue crossed her left knee over her right and stared in a way she’d seen Ronan do countless times. She wondered if she was really pulling it off.

“Blue,” Ms. Pepperell sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. _Yeah, I’m pulling it off. Eat your heart out, Lynch_. “Do you know what _my_ first name is? It’s Bree. You can call me that, if you’d like. I won’t mind. My parents were hippies, you know? Nerd hippies. Really big on Lord of the Rings. Bree was a village in the books. We had a cat named Aragorn. Have you ever read Tolkien?”

“Saw the movies,” Blue slid Persephone’s ancient pearl ring over her knuckle and back again, over and over. It only really fit on Blue’s pinky finger, but it was a little too big there, so she was constantly checking for it.

“Right. Well. You could look at your life now as a place where a new quest is beginning. Can’t hang around in the Shire forever, not a bold and bright little thing like you.”

“Do you think you’re the first one to think it’s funny to call me a hobbit?”

“What - oh, no, that’s not what I - I just mean it’s time for you to think outside Mountain View High School, Blue. Beyond Henrietta. You’re a senior now! It’s almost Christmas break. Most of your classmates have already decided where they’ll be in college or otherwise this time next year. Do you know where you want to be? What you want to be?”

Blue thought: _Away from here. Away from this place. With my friends. With my boyfriend, who’s alive_.

Blue said: “Somewhere else.”

“Mm. And have you thought about whether a two-year or four-year college is your path to somewhere else? I have your file here, somewhere here in my drawer full of seniors, Blue, and I - I don’t think I saw any SAT scores,” Ms. Pepperell yanked open a desk drawer crammed full of worn-tabbed manila folders. “Have you signed up to take it? Or are you thinking ACT? You know, there are plenty of admissions boards now debating whether to do away with standardized test scores in their application portfolios-”

“I don’t do well on those.”

“Right. Well. Plenty of us don’t. But it’s still a basic application requirement for lots of schools you might want to consider. Of course I don’t want you to stress too much about it, as it’s just one part of your whole application. Your essays, for example, would be stellar, I’m sure. I have a feeling about you.”

“Please don’t tell me my fortune.”

The guidance counselor gave Blue an annoyingly knowing little quirk of a smile as she considered this. Blue was sure this lady had heard about 300 Fox Way and probably had made a note of it in Blue’s file from previous guidance counselors who had left the trenches for greener pastures. _Kid comes from a total nuthouse. Go easy. Try to use wacky Lord of the Rings or Narnia metaphors to really connect with her._

“So what can I do for you, Blue? What do you need to hear from me? What would help you right now? I want to support you however I can.”

“I mean … thanks for asking. I’ve heard the stuff about SATs and applications and making a list of reach schools and safety schools, I know that. I just … I don’t know. I don’t know how else to say it. I don’t know what I want yet. I don’t get how everyone else does! How can you just know what you’re going to be and whether to minor in political science or Russian lit or pre-law? And exactly what school and what state and what country? What if I hate it there? I can’t afford it anyway! I don’t know. Do you have any real advice? Does anyone?”

Blue sucked in a rapid breath and sat there briefly stunned at her own outburst. This was great, exactly what the new guidance counselor could gloat about later in the teacher’s lounge. _I feel like I really got through to her today_.

“Real advice. Okay. Here it is,” Ms. Pepperell - Bree - folded her arms and leaned forward in a serious way. “Don’t fall in love yet. You’re too young. It’ll mess with your life.”

This was: not what Blue had been expecting. This was definitely a time where Calla would’ve said: _Careful what you wish for_.

She heard her own pulse drumming in her ears, and her hands closed tightly, her nails digging into her palms.

“Ah. Too late, then, I see,” Ms. Pepperell said in a fashion that was likely meant as kind, but Blue took as a direct hit. Her shields had malfunctioned. She was losing altitude.

Blue thought: _Too late by far. Too late at least five times over_.

Blue also thought: _Something is wrong with me_.

Blue said: “I’ll, uh - I’ll take that into consideration. I was maybe … I was hoping more for, like. Which community colleges are cheap but have good transfer agreements.”

“Well! That one I can certainly do,” Ms. Pepperell turned to a crappy old laptop and began jabbing at its keys. “What do you have seventh and eighth period tomorrow?”

“Um. Precal and physics.”

“Great. I’m putting you on the college fair trip instead. Lots of excellent options there for you to explore. I know it’ll mostly be juniors and sophomores, but you’ll be fine. You’re a bit of a lone wolf, aren’t you, Blue?”

Blue sighed and gazed over toward the window, where the fly was still knocking idiotically against the frame and the dirty glass. For a moment she wished it was RoboBee, coming to check on her, to show her the way out. _How did you know I needed you_ , she’d whisper, and the words would scrawl across Henry’s phone screen somewhere. She’d fly straight out the window and over the Blue Ridge mountains and find her real friends, who she missed so much now it tore a hole in her stomach.

“Bus leaves at 1:15 exactly, okay? Don’t be late. You don’t have to bring anything with you. Just an open mind!”

Blue hauled her backpack onto her knees and thought about a bus full of juniors and overachieving sophomores. She also thought about skipping physics and precal for something other than in-school suspension.

“Can I have someone drive me there?”

 

* * *

  

“If you brought me here to help you drag a timeless Mariah Carey classic, Bluebell, you were gravely mistaken!”

Instead of turning off the radio at Blue’s gagging sounds, Henry mutinously bumped the volume up. They were speeding along in his silver car so quickly that Blue had no idea if they were actually headed to the civic center, nor did she particularly care.

“Timeless classic? It’s, like … from the nineties. It’s a Christmas song, for God’s sake.”

“Fifty years from now, when you hear it on the radio in your … your private space shuttle, you will know I was right.”

“Only one of us in this car is gonna somehow find it in the budget for a space yacht, Henry Cheng, and it’s not me.”

“You are missing my point,” Henry grinned brashly at her, flashing lots of teeth and wiggling eyebrows over his mirrored sunglasses. Most of the time Blue tended to forget that he was an honest-to-God part-time model, but then he’d give her that _look_ and it would just knock a few bricks out of her foundation.

She ought to have known better by then, really, the weapons her raven boys could brandish without warning. But she was way past the point of being cautious or guarded around them anymore.

She’d observed Henry pulling that one on Gansey, too. Plenty of times. And she knew it worked. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that yet.

Blue hadn’t really needed to consider which of her friends to call on for this opportunity. Ronan would have been priceless for ruthlessly judging everyone at the college fair, but he never answered his fucking phone. Adam didn’t have a phone, and likely would’ve given her an unbearable point-by-point rundown of all the schools present instead of focusing on people-watching.

Gansey probably would’ve known all the college recruiters and gotten her some kind of sketchy admissions promise with a handshake and a campaign promise.

Henry, though. Henry had embraced it with the same inexplicably troublesome enthusiasm he brought to any terrible idea, and suddenly they were on an adventure, rather than driving to a pathetic college fair in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of obnoxious overachieving sophomores who were already choreographing their entire lives.

Henry had assured her he would be thrilled to escort her to this event, and had nothing but free time since Aglionby was already out for the fall semester. Naturally private school boys needed a full month for holiday break, as they’d be exhausted from a grueling semester of dealing cocaine to the locals and complaining that the cars they all got for their sixteenth birthdays weren’t cool enough.

“Is this the place?” Henry twitched at his sunglasses, peering over the frames. “I see all of your terrible yellow school buses. You made a wise choice in having me chariot you here instead of having to set foot in one of those - you know. Things. Hardly a worthy vessel for you, Wendybird.”

“This parking spot says _Reserved_ , you know.”

“And it is the only appropriate place here for a car like this.”

“God! You’re still such a - a raven boy. The ravenest of raven boys.”

“I prefer Lost Boy. Let’s go! The crowd awaits.”

“Lost Boy? Are you on a Peter Pan kick, for some reason? What is with–”

“You are stalling,” Henry pointed at her, glancing between her and the civic center entrance. “Why are you stalling?”

“Henry-”

“You are too brave of an adventurer to be chickening out over - over a ridiculous nothing event like this,” Henry folded his arms, turning sideways toward her in the seat, letting the car idle. “You need to get whatever it is off of your chest, or it will vanquish you! Tell me all of your secrets. What vexes you, Wendybird?”

“Hm. I thought Tinkerbell was the one who called her Wendybird. You know? Are you Tinkerbell, or a Lost Boy?”

“That is,” Henry pursed his lips, “ _such_ a personal question.”

“It is?”

“Anyway, I asked you first. Start talking, kid.”

Blue bristled at this one; she didn’t want Henry to think of her that way. But it was true, wasn’t it? The ugly secret of everything. She was a thousand-year-old baby.

“I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up,” Blue folded her arms, embracing the tantrum.

“Who does?”

“Everyone! Everyone our age. Everyone except me, apparently. Do you think I wanted to come here? To a college fair? What are these people going to tell me that I don’t know already? I don’t have the grades for good scholarships, I have zero savings, I don’t have any extracurriculars – don’t look at me like that, you know I can’t list goddamn Glendower on my college applications-”

“You are serious? About college? I thought we were going to come here and decide which one of those sad college recruiters will be drunk on appletinis at the interstate Chili’s before happy hour even starts.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, yes, also that, let’s do that too. But shouldn’t I have some idea of what college I even want to consider at this point in my life? I’m supposed to graduate in six months. Shouldn’t I have the slightest clue about what to do after that? So I don’t get stuck here waiting on rich assholes like you at Nino’s until I’m ninety-two?”

Henry removed his sunglasses and zipped them into a sleek black case, then tucked them neatly into the console. For a few seconds, Blue wondered if she’d even asked any of that aloud in the first place, because Henry was maddeningly silent.

“I thought you wanted to go to Morocco,” Henry finally said, looking everywhere but at her.

“It was Venezuela. God. I can’t believe you still don’t remember!”

“Venezuela. Fine. That is not the point. I thought you wanted to go somewhere exciting. With me. And Gansey.”

“I do, Henry, but that’s not a career path. You and Gansey might be able to just pop down to South America whenever you feel like it, but I don’t know if I can afford it in the first place, especially not if I decide to go to school and can’t get enough financial aid or loans or all of that. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you’ve probably never heard of financial aid.”

“I am aware of it as a concept.”

“Good for you,” Blue snatched up her denim tote and ejected herself from the shiny silver car. The door didn’t slam in a satisfying way at all; it was a neat, polite little thunk that pissed her off even more.

Henry followed her to the student entrance, staying quiet and eyeing her askance.

“It’s Blue,” she sighed as she watched the volunteer run an acrylic nail over the attendance lists at the registration table. “B-L-U-E. Like the color.”

“Ah, I found you. Blue Sargent, is it?”

“Ms. Sargent if you’re nasty,” Henry intervened, grabbing the adhesive nametag and patting it affectionately as he affixed it to Blue’s vest. Well, it was a boy’s pinstriped jacket with the sleeves torn out, but who was counting. Maura had suggested she wear a _blazer_ , of all things. As if she were going on an interview for an accounting firm. Calla had argued Blue should stick to her own personal style, to stand out to the college recruiters.

She’d split the difference.

“And your name is …” the registration volunteer lifted an eyebrow at Henry.

“Oh, I’m not a student,” Henry turned on a charming smile and gestured to his blindingly bright red sweater vest, which Blue only now noticed had a small “S” embroidered over Henry’s heart. “I’m working the east coast circuit for Stanford. Can you point me toward the Cardinal Red?”

“Stanford University? How lovely to have you! I didn’t realize we - hmm,” the volunteer looked a bit dazzled, then scoured her photocopied exhibit hall map. “These aren’t in alphabetical-”

“No worries, I’ll find it! I’m just going to walk our star recruit around a bit, give her the pitch again, see if I can’t make her change her mind about California. Ms. Sargent, let’s walk and talk!”

“You’re unbelievable,” Blue hissed as Henry took her arm and guided her a little too swiftly into the crowd. “You just had Stanford stuff lying around?”

“Too extra? Mm. I was trying to embrace the overall fashion theme of this date.”

“Henry, please, I’m not criticizing your fashion choices, I just - are you going to Stanford? Is that why you have that?”

“Yes it is! Fifty points to Gryffindor.”

“Oh my God. Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Didn’t really come up! Look, here is the UVA display. This is the one you need.”

“Wait, wait. Do you think I - do you think you’re on a _date?_ ” she planted her feet and waited for Henry to notice she was no longer stuck to his side.

“Can you let me pretend I am? You do not have to kiss me at the end. I’m young, Bluebell. I still have so much to live for.”

“Henry!” she nearly shrieked, her skin burning and her lungs squeezing in on themselves.

“Does UVA require test scores? Maybe we look for something less rigorous, admissions-wise.”

“Could you maybe go five minutes without insulting me directly to my face? Maybe try something more passive-aggressive for a change?”

“You _told_ me you do not _shine_ on standardized tests! I am trying to help here.”

“Ugh,” Blue closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to calm herself. She hadn’t been ready to field more criticism about the value of her hypothetical admissions portfolio.

She began visiting college booths at random, only approaching when recruiters were busy talking to someone else. She grabbed flyers and brochures like it was her job. It was a simple enough task to embrace, and it was an easy way to avoid processing or feeling anything from the casual barbs of Henry Cheng.

When she grew tired of this approach, somewhere between Blue Ridge Community College and Old Dominion, she let Henry pick up the lead. He seemed to sense this need quite naturally, and from then on he pushed through to booths for her, firing off all kinds of enthusiastic questions about degree plans and study abroad opportunities while Blue stood back a bit, folding her arms and spending about a quarter of her brain power actually paying attention. It was about fifteen minutes of this before Henry actually called her on it.

“This is not helping you,” Henry grabbed at her hand and pulled her aside, a blessed gap in the crowd. “And if I have to see one more ill-fitting polo shirt I am going to cry. Have you decided what you want to be when you grow up? Yet?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Well, I have good news for you. The only thing you need to be now or then is - is _you_. Yourself. And you don’t need to worry about that, not at all. You _have_ that, okay? You have that in spades, it’s why I …”

“…Why you what?” Blue tried to ask, but her throat had just closed up a bit.

“I want to show you something. Can we ditch this thing?”

This was: clearly not at all what Henry had been about to say.

“You want to show me something _where_?”

“It’s a surprise! Trust me, Bluebell. It’s important.”

“Mm,” she considered, fanning herself with a handful of glossy brochures. “Okay, you talked me into it.”

She wasn’t sure whether it should be allowed, but she still held his hand all the way back to the Fisker.

 

* * *

  

“I thought you were going to show me something important,” Blue said, looking over at Henry in confusion.

“I am!”

“Do we need a quick pancake break first? I mean, where are we actually going?”

“Here,” Henry made a face, as if this could not be more obvious.

“You want to show me something important at a Waffle House?”

“Oh, I absolutely do. Waffle. House. Now. Let’s. Go.”

It didn’t even matter that Blue was shrugging and rolling her eyes; Henry was already out of the car. She made her way inside and clung to the way he’d said _Trust me, Bluebell_. She would’ve followed him anywhere, but if she’d realized the Henrietta Waffle House was on the list of possibilities, she might’ve included a caveat or two.

“What can I get y’all to drink,” the solitary waitress, whose nametag proclaimed _Della_ , approached them at a leisurely pace after they’d claimed an orange-painted booth.

“Coffee, please,” Blue replied instinctively. “Regular.”

“Water for me, Della, thanks,” Henry smiled flashily, because of course.

They were left alone again, and Blue peered down at the freshly-wiped plastic placemat that doubled as a menu. She quickly flipped it from the Lunch side to the Breakfast side.

“What are we doing here,” Blue tapped an impatient fingertip against a photo of the All-Star Combo.

“I wanted you to meet Della.”

“Come _on_ , Henry.”

“She has worked here for twenty-four years. Did you know that? She went to your public high school. Her granddaughter sits there and colors in her coloring book sometimes. You really don’t know Della?”

“I get enough greasy fried food exposure at Nino’s as it is. I don’t really have a need in my life for Waffle House,” Blue said. Which was both true and not true. She remembered Maura bringing her here quite often when she was little, when she’d get to spin around at the counter stools and order a large orange juice with a bendy straw and slide a quarter into the light-up jukebox that only played country music. But she wasn’t in the mood for kid stuff.

“Are we ready to order?” Della returned with a pink pad of paper.

“Yes. Um. English muffin and hash browns, scattered and smothered,” Blue pointed at the menu. “Thank you.”

Della scribbled this, looking unimpressed, and turned expectantly toward Henry.

“What are you having,” Blue leaned over to tug at the cuff of Henry’s sleeve.

“Me?” Henry blinked. “Oh. Yeah, no, I don’t eat the food here.”

“Oh my God,” Blue muttered; Della gave a bored shrug before turning away again and yelling Blue’s order to the cook.

It was a Thursday afternoon in Henrietta, quiet and predictable. The only other person in the Waffle House was an older man determinedly reading every word of a tabloid newspaper.

Blue wondered if Henry had been telling the truth about Della and her granddaughter. When she swiveled to look at Henry again and try to read him better, her gaze snagged on the shiny white Stanford logo on his chest. Now that she’d noticed it, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it right away.

Stanford was thousands of miles and several time zones away. At least Adam was trying for something on the same _coast_ , for God’s sake. But she knew whenever he installed himself at whatever Ivy League school, he wouldn’t come up for air until he graduated with honors. Meanwhile Blue would be hosing down sweet tea buckets at Nino’s and waiting for word from someone. Anyone.

“Why did you bring me here,” Blue demanded in a voice that came out way too shaky for her liking.

“Because you are afraid, and it is starting to show in your mirror eyes, Wendybird.”

“Wendy again. Okay, listen. Do you know what really happened to Wendy? In Peter Pan? She got _old_ , and – and sad! She lost all the magic, and she - she was all alone in her uptight boring Victorian house, and her uncomfortable rocking chair, and lace shawls, and she … she lost it all. All of it. And they just let her go and grow up and forget how to fly! They left her there.”

“I don’t think it was as grim as all that. She got to experience magic in the first place.”

“So, what, I’m supposed to just be happy for what I had? And let it go? Better to have loved and lost, is that what you’re telling me? Because I think that’s bullshit.”

“Nothing lasts forever. Things are going to change on you, and the faster you face that down, the faster you can enjoy what you have now. Admit you are scared, Bluebell, and then deal with it! Don’t just languish here in limbo, all frozen and stubborn about it. You think this is all that lies ahead for you,” Henry nodded toward Della, who was rinsing glasses at the sink behind the counter. “To be stuck here forever. Left behind. Forgotten. Admit it.”

“I thought I already did!” Blue felt her eyelashes sticking together, and she hated it. She wished she could have a real burst of anger just once without the stupid tears making an appearance.

“Do you know why I really called you that? The first time?” Henry leapt up from his side of the booth and invaded hers, sliding over to brush his thumb along her cheekbone. She allowed this, tentatively. “Wendybird?”

Blue didn’t trust her voice to sound strong enough, so she shook her head instead.

“Yes, you do. You said it, earlier. You said Tinkerbell calls her that. Because she’s jealous. You showed up and snagged my Peter Pan and I may have … reacted poorly! But that was before I realized that I was actually crazy about you and I … I wanted to go to Venezuela with you. _Both_ of you. Uh,” Henry cleared his throat sharply. “But the name is still cute, you have to give me that.”

“I think maybe,” Blue said carefully, after a bit of sniffling, “that we need to talk about what it means for the three of us to, um. _Go to Venezuela_. Together.”

“Sure! We do! But listen,” Henry clutched at her hand. “All that stuff about being forgotten? You are a magical tree goddess, and I adore you, and when we said we are friends now, I meant it! For good, Blue. You cannot get rid of me just because I am going to California for a while. You have your own adventures to plan, anyway. _You are not going to forget how to fly_. The magic _is_ you! Do you understand?”

Blue covered her mouth against a nervous, gaspy giggle, as Della was bringing her food. She waited until her coffee was refilled, then turned back to Henry and buried her forehead in his shoulder. He smelled like some kind of fresh cologne. It was very different than Gansey’s minty scent, but not at all unpleasant.

“I don’t think Della was _stuck_ here,” Blue whispered. “Maybe she just likes it here. It’s kind of shitty of you to assume stuff about her life.”

“Oh, yes, because _you_ would never judge-”

“Shut up,” Blue laughed, and reached up to press her lips against Henry’s cheek. He closed his eyes and smiled a smile she had never seen before. “Was this all really part of some plan of yours to make me face my fears? Or did you just wing it?”

“Of course it was all part of my plan! Well, maybe. Actually, I, um. I mostly came here so we could meet up with Gansey. See?”

Blue pulled back from Henry’s arms and swiped at her damp cheek as she saw Gansey strolling in, holding some paperback books and what looked like plastic folded maps. He called out a greeting to Della, using her first name, because naturally he knew her somehow.

His usual confident walk faltered when he made eye contact with Blue, and she felt a wave of something like guilt at how she was nearly in Henry’s lap. They’d all been very close lately, but she wasn’t sure where the line should be. Or if there even was a line anymore.

“Jane. Henry. I’m glad you’re both here.”

“You don’t seem glad,” Blue grumbled as she watched Gansey sit down across from them, clutching his books to his ribcage. He was wearing his glasses, and looked like he hadn’t slept well.

“I have something to tell you,” Gansey frowned, then looked over at Henry. The boys exchanged a long, meaningful look.

“Okay, what? You’re freaking me out here.”

“I should have told you right away, but it was very late, and I didn’t want to disturb anyone at your house, and then I knew you had this - is it a field trip, technically?”

“Gansey, what? Jesus!”

“I kissed Henry,” Gansey confessed in a giant rush of breath, glancing in an agonized way between the two of them.

Blue allowed a few seconds of suspense, and tried to hold it for longer, but it was impossible. She burst out laughing, so boisterous that Della shot her a bit of a dirty look.

“So did I,” Blue gasped when she could breathe again.

“What, that? Just now?” Henry touched his cheek briefly, then pouted in her general direction. “That hardly counts!”

“Oh my God. Look, Gansey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for laughing. I know that was scary for you, I just - I’m sorry. It’s okay. I love you.”

“I … love you … too?” Gansey stared.

“Would you put those down? Relax, okay? We’re going to be all right.”

Gansey continued to watch both of them, his gaze uneasy, but after a few moments’ consideration, he let out a great sigh of relief and dumped an armload of books across the table. Blue supposed it was fortunate at that point that Henry would not deign to order food from a Waffle House grill.

Travel books. They were all travel books about South America. And some shiny laminated maps.

Blue looked over at Henry, who winked at her and rested his head against the top of hers, from a sideways angle that would not mess up his gorgeous hair.

“Della, could I trouble you for a - ah, thank you,” Gansey nodded in satisfaction; Della was already setting a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

“How often have you two been coming here?” Blue elbowed Henry.

“It’s open twenty-four hours,” Gansey held a hand over his coffee, watching the steam play between his fingers. He made it look like magic. “Do I get an update on the college search process?”

“It is ongoing,” Blue reached out to capture Gansey’s hand, and kissed each of his fingertips in rapid succession. “Let’s talk about these books of yours, instead. Are you going to show us how to get to Venezuela?”

“Second star to the right!” Henry grabbed for the nearest map. “And straight on till morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know it still feels a little rushed, but it was a lot of fun to write! Kinda want to write actual sarchengsey now. Anyway thanks for reading! And thanks to @[spikenard](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spikenard/profile) who taught me to pay closer attention to Henry Cheng as a character.


End file.
